Newspaper Page Text
VOLUME 11. |
BY C. R. IIANLEITER.
IP © E ¥ ft Y.
DARK EYED BEAUTY OF THE SOUTH.
Dark Eyed beauty of the South !
Mistress of the rosy mouth!
Doth my heart desert its duty 7
Doth thy blood belie thy beauty 7
Art thou false, and art thou cold 7
Art thou sworn to wed for gold ?
On thy forehead sitteth pride.
Crowned with scorn and falcon-eyed ;
But beneath, methinks, thou twincst
Silken smiles tiiat seem divinest.
Can such smiles be false and cold?
Canst thou—wilt thou wed for go|d ?
We, who dwell on Northern earth,
Fill the frozen air wi th mirth, —
Soar upon the wings of laughter,
(Though we droop the moment after;)
But, through all our regions cold,
None will sell their hearts for gold.
CHARLES WILLETT;
A Tale of the Revolution.
BV ROBERT HAMILTON.
Those who have ever traced that beauti
ful stream the Wissaliicon, from its source
’till its junction with the Schuylkill will ac
knowledge that for romantic and sylvan
scenery, its hanks cannot he surpassed in
the Union. T the very water’s edge, they
are clothed in all the luxuriance of wood,
shrub and flow ret; while here and there,
a verdant valley hursts upon the eye through
which some chrysta! rivulet wench its way,
and where the labors of the husbandman
are seen crowned with plenty. In the ear
ly settlement of the state, these lovely val
leys were selected by the hold pioneers, and
the old Dutch cottage with its numerous ap
purtenances of strong built barns, stables
imd other offices on which more labor and
care were expended than on the residence
•of the owner, are yet to be seen, and even
where the hand of modern improvement
has constructed elegant and commodious
mansions, the ruins of the original dwellings
are allowed to remain from a superstitious
feeling that the genius of prosperity would
depart with their removal.
In one of these valleys, when the war of
Independence was first waged, there dwelt
a man who had numbered some fifty sum
mers, by vocation a miller. His cottage
stood a little way from the brink of a rivu
let, in the midst of a garden, which display
ed the qualities of utility and beauty, min
istering as much to the gratification of the
eye in its floral treasures as to the domestic
uses of its owner. Peter Schuyler, for such
was the miller’s name, had an only daugh
ter, by name Ellen, who in early life had
been deprived by death of her mother, but
under the fond and watchful protection of
her father, had strived at womanhood, and
among the maidens of her own immediate
neighborhood, was named “ the Rose of
Beauty.” At the period of our story, the
•tate of Pennsylvania was but thinly settled,
and the blacksmith’s shop in the adjacent
village or the mill of Schuyler was the gen
eral rendezvous of the inhabitants to hear
and discuss the matters of the nation.—
Among the very constant visitors at the mill,
was Charles Willett, a young farmer, who
had won the affections of Ellen, and with
the consent of her father the day was ap
pointed for the celebration of their nuptials.
The war, however, had assumed so formi
dable an aspect, that every true lover of his
country who could shoulder a musket ea
gerly rushed to join the ranks of the patri
ots, and Charles, with the advice and wish
of Schuyler, deemed it prudent that the
nuptial ties should he deferred until the
emancipation or subjugation of America
was decided. With a fortitude worthy of a
daughter of liberty, Ellen willingly consent
ed to the proposal, nay, with the patriotic
spirit which universally pervaded both sex
es in those days which 44 tried the souls of
men,” she boldly avowed, she would remain
for ever in maiden loneliness, if it pleased
God that her lover should die in defence of
his native country.
We will not dwell upon the parting of
she lovers. If it were tender, it was, how
ever, made subservient to the calls of pru
dence and patriotism, and on a lovely
piorniug of June. 1776, Charles Willett de-
I juried from his home to serve under the
japtjer of American Independence. El-
Jeif’s father, despite of his years, would
gladly have accompanied him, but there
was no one to whom he could confide the
safety of his daughter, and he was there
fore compelled to refrain from partnking in
the struggle ; yet he was not altogether
dormant or uninterested in tho glorious
cause, and frequently by secret assistance
contributed materially to the patriots’ aid
’till success ultimately crowned their ef
forts.
Jn the first battle, in which Charles was
engaged, bo so bravely distinguished him
self, as to win the favorable notice of Wash
ington, and when the conflicting armies
marched into Pennsylvania, he was select
ed hy tho General from his acquaintance of
the country, in reconnoitering and procur
ing information, respecting the movements
of the enemy. It so happened that the
ground then occupied by the British forces,
embraced fiis own home and that of Schuy*
& jF'TttiUs Jlclueijapev : Brtootetr to Hitcrature, Egricuiture, JHerfianfce, iForclgn anti BowestCc Intelligence, &rc.
ler, and with the natural feelings of a lover,
Charles anxiously desired an opportunity to
see and converse with his betrothed, but so
closely were the movements of the Ameri
cans regarded, that all his attempts were
frustrated. But what can damp a lover’s
ardor? and Charles,one evening, determin
ed at all hazards to pass to the abode of
Schuyler.
It was in the latter part of October, when
the trees were surrendering their foliage to
the blast and the turf was assuming the im
press of decay. The night was dark and
silent, not a star twinkled in the firmament,
while the low, melancholy moaning of the
wind among the almost leafless forests soun*
ded as if the spirit of nature was sighing
over the grave of the departed year. Ha
bited as a plain yeoman, he left the camp,
and threading the Woods hy paths Well
known to him from his boyhood, he gained
the banks of the Wissahicon, that river be
ing then the barrier between the hostile ar
mies. The autumnal floods had swollen its
waters, no boat, no bridge, was near for ma
ny miles, and his heart for a moment failed
him, as ho heard the sullen flow, and plain
ly discovered the foam-covered surface of
the river. But the immage of his love rose
before him and 41 accoutred as he was,” he
fearlessly consigned himself to the element.
Having reached the shore, he cautiously
proceeded to the cottage. As he neared
it all was silent, the monotonous and meas
ured pacing of the sentinels was the only
sound that broke the stillness of the hour,
and for some minutes he stood breathless
and irresolute. How to apprize them of
his presence lie ceuld not divine, so closely
was every spot around the dwelling guaid
ed hy the pickets of the enemy. At length
he remembered that an old negro was in
the habit of sleeping in the mill, and thith
er he directed his course with the intention
of making him the instrument of secretly
informing Ellen and her father of his arri
val. The old creature being so suddenly
awakened in the still watches of midnight,
thought the enemy, or—-what was in those
times more dreaded, the Indians, had come
to murder him, and consequently lie gave
vent to his terrors in not the lowest of tones.
“Hush! be no: alarmed—don’t you know
me, Sambo ? Charles Willett, your old
friend,” whispered Charles.
The old man’s fears were silenced in a
moment as he tittered—“Oh! Massa
Charles, Massa Charles, how happy will
him Missus Ellen be to see her own dear
loiter again, and so will Massa Schuyler—
but stay, me cannot see de boy, him shall go
get light and—
“ Hush, speak lower, mv kind fellow,”
said Charles, “ remember we are in the en
emy's camp—spies may be near 11s.”
” There are,” shouted a voice, at the
same moment, the shade was drawn from 3
dark-lantern, and a full glare of light illu
minated the interior of the mill, showing to
Charles and the afl’rightened Sambo, the
athletic figure of a British soldier.
“ You are my prisoner, my fine fellow,”
said the soldier. “ I though) l heard a foot
step upon the sward. What seek you
here ?”
44 That which concerns not you,” replied
Charles, his young heart swelling with in
dignation at the insolence of the foreign
myrmidon.
••Ah, ha? we shall see that, my young
imp of rebellion. If you be, as I suspect
you are, a spy of the rebels, a short shrift
and a lofty gallows are in waiting for yon.”
Charles could no longer brook the inso
lence of the soldiei, but springing upon
him, a scuffle ensued, in which the musket
of the latter was discharged—the guard
was alarmed, the drum heat to arms, and
the next moment the mill was surrounded
hy troops of soldiery.
The inmates of the cottage thus startled
from their slumbers, rushed to the scene.—
The surprise and feelings of Schuyler and
his daughter may be easily imagined, when
they beheld in the full glare of toich-light,
Charles, a prisoner in the hands of the ene
my. He breathed not a word, but bis look
at Ellen bespoke the sorrow of his soul.
44 Charles—Charles Willett,” frantically
exclaimed the poor girl, and the next mo
ment she fell senseless in the arms of her fa
ther.
Under a strong escort, he was conducted
before the commanding officer, by whom he
was strictly interrogated, but he would not
deign to otter a word of reply. His person,
however, was plainly identified by several
witnesses from among his neighbors, who
were too terrified hy the threats of their en
emies not to reveal all they knew of him.
Poor Charles, thus proved beyond doubt
a spy, was condemned to death—yet in mer
cy, a respite was granted to him of twenty
four hours to make his peace with his God.
At the morning muster in the patriot
camp, his absence was discovered, and as
he was a brave and efficient soldier, and
above all an especial favorite of the Gener
al, it created no little commotion and regret.
A thousand surmises were afloat as to the
cause of his absence, but the true one was
not suspected until the appearance of Ellen,
worn and distracted at the camp. Agener
al burst of indiguation was the reply to her
tidings, and there was not a heart but would
willingly have sprang to the rescue of their
companion.
One thing was however certain—no time
was to be lost. The following morning
would behold the execution of Willett, un
MADISON, MORGAN COUNTY, GEORGIA, SATURDAY MORNING, NOVEMBER 11, 184:3.
less some bold effort were made for his pre
servation. Yet bow could it be accomplish
ed ? All access to the prisoner was debar
red, and the utmost vigilance was observed
by both armies in the defence of their re
spective positions. Moreover, the prisoner
Was confined in the heart of the British
camp, and all attempts at rescue would he
only attended with discomfiture. Poor El
len found in every American bosom deep
commisserution, but not a ray of hope pene
trated the the darkness of her soul, and sick
with despair she retraced her steps to her
father’s dwelling, resolving if possible to
share the last moments of her lover.
When she departed on her return home,
the shaddows of twilight Were gathering
around the world, the breeze sighed mourn
fully, and the leaves fell from the sapless
branches of the forests, apt emblems of her
own blighted hopes. She paused for a mo
ment on the hanks of a little rivulet—it was
a spot sacred in her remembrance, for there
she had received the first fond avowal of the
love of Charles, the tears gushed from her
eyes, and in the agony of her heart she fell
upon her knees and supplicated the Al
mighty for fortitude in the hour of trial.
When she arose from her devotion, she
was surprised at the sight of a man who
stood at a short distance from her, regard
ing her with respectful silence. She would
have fled from his presence, but he prevent
ed her .by mildly exclaiming—“ Stay, my
pretty maiden, you have nothing to fear from
ft
me.
The stranger who thus addressed her,
was a tall and commanding individual, habit
ed in the military costume of the period
combining in his person the qualities of
grace, strength, and majesty ; his eye was
bright and penetrating —around his mouth
played a smile in which was blended benev
olence with firmness; while his high and
ample forehead, as lie respectfully saluted
Ellen, completed a form on which the Al
mighty seemed to have “eel his seal to give
the. world assurance of a man.”
44 Your name is Ellen Schuyler?” lie
continued in the blandest of lories.
“ It is, sir !” said Ellen, almost inaudibly,
so surprised was she at the stranger’s sud
den appearance and knowledge of her
name.
“And you are the betrothed of Charles
Willett 1” Ellen started—he proceeded—
-44 You are, 1 have heard so—l have also
heard he is now in the bands of the ene
>
my.
“ Alas ! alas !” exclaimed Ellen, passion
ately, “ can nothing be done to save him ?
you. Sir, have the aspect of a good man—
in your look is compassion, and in your
voice are the tones of mercy. Say, Sir.
can you devise no means whereby be can be
rescued. lam but a poor weak woman ;
neither my strength, sex, or my situation
can avail me aught. Charles, my dear
Charles ! if he dies, the snows of winter
will fall upon my grave;” and the poor girl
fell at his feet and sobbed convulsively.
He gently raised her from the ground,
and essayed to calm her sorrows, but the
tear was glistening in his own eye, and he
turned aside and wept. 44 Father of mer
cies,” said he, fervently, 44 if it be Thy will,
let this cup of sorrow pass from the maiden!
then turning to Ellen, he continued, “my
good girl, place your trust in that power
which never forsakes the virtuous. Your
lover may yet he saved.”
44 Oh ! blessings on you for that gleam of
hope. But how—when ? remember but a
few hours longer he is permitted to exist
by bis enemies.”
44 That secret remains with me. I will
promise nothing. lam but an humble in
strument in the hands of my Creator, and if
I succeed, to Him be the glory of the act,
not me. But lose no time in reaching your
home; the night is closing upon us. Fare
well ! Pray to God for His assistance—
He will not desert you—again farewell !”
Ellen invoked a blessing on bis bead, and
mournfully pursued her path. The stran
ger looked around him cautiously to see if
no one was near, then slightly sounding a
small whistle, art Indian sprang from a thick
et, and stood before him.
“You will remember my instructions ?”
said he. The Indian proudly bowed bis
head in assent. 44 Enough—l know I can
tiust you —remember?” and the stranger
walked quickly away, while the Indian dart
ed into the forest.
The morning dawned in all the loveliness
ofan American fall, a season which, fornatur
al beauty, is not unsurpassed in any coun
try. The dews of night hung like diamonds
on every tree, shrub, or yet blooming flow
eret. The matin hymns of the feathered
snngstets made the air one voice of music.
The sun was majestically ascending the
vault of heaven, bathing in liquid glory ev
ery object of the landscape, the streams
were leaping and rejoicing in their course
—all nature looked glad and beauteous
even as when God rested from his labor,
and pronounced 44 it was very good.”
The prisoner was conducted early to the
spot appointed for his execution. Ellen,
who, to the credit of the commanding offi
cer, had been allowed to share the last
hours of her lover’s existence, was, with
difficulty, parted from him. Her screams
were heard throughout the camp, and not a
heart but felt for her situation. Charles
alone appeared to be unmoved. His cheek
blanched not, nor did a muscle tremble in
his frame. Firmly did be march forward
until the scaffold met his eye. Before his
judge he had stood boldly, and contemned
all threats—he hud heard his sentence un
moved, and at the summons to meet his fate
had passed forth without a shudder or a
sigh, but now his heart for an instant failed
him, tears dimmed his vision, and a love of
life for a moment unmanned him, lint quick
as thought his spirit resumed its wonted se
renity, and he prepared for death with firm
ness that Won for him the admiration and
pity of his very executioners. *
44 Are you ready, Sir ?” asked the offi
cer in command.
44 1 am !” replied Charles, in a tone of
calm and manly fortitude, ar.d, although
pinioned, he prepared, without assistance,
to ascend the platform.
44 If you have ar.srht to communicate—
any dying wish which you would desire to
have executed, I promise you, sir, if in my
power, and consistent with my duty, to per
foim it,” said the officer, with great feeling
and respect.
44 You are generous, s'r, and although an
enemy, yet I feel I may trust you. I have
one request to make—one wish 1 desire
may be fulfilled, It is this, that you will
seek out—Ellen—that—-you-—” but his
feelings stifled his utterance, and, for the
first time, before his enemies, he betrayed
the weakness of humanity. 44 It is, sir. that
you will seek out Ellen Schuyler, and tell
her that my last thought was of her—my
last prayer was for her happiness. Take
her this, sir ; it is the ring I should have
placed upon her finger at the altar, but
death now claims me for its victim. Tell
her to wear it sot the sake of him who tru
ly loved her, who—l can speak no more.—
Oh, God ! Oh, God ! Why hast thou for
saken me” —and he wept aloud, while not
an eye but was as moist as his own.
“ Have yon aught else to say, sir ?”
“ I have. Bear witness, Heaven, that
my last words are—Freedom to my country
—Death to her tyrants ! May—”
He would have added more, hut on a sig
nal from the officer, the rolling of the drum
drowned his voice, and the provost marshal
proceeded to execute the sentance. On a
sudden the ail was rent with savage yells
mingled with the report of rifles. The sol
diers around the prisoner dropped in every
direction, and, from an adjacent wood, a
band of Indians rushed upon, and ovetpow
ered the astonished remainder. At the
same moment, the stranger, already men
tioned, cut the cords which bound the arms
of Willett.
“Mount!” shouted he. “Mount Wil
lett, and ride for your life and liberty !” and
in his hand he held a noble steed, saddled
and bridled.
” General Washington !” exclaimed
Charles, in astonishment.
“ Hush, sir! do as I order you !” Swift
as an arrow Willett leaped to the saddle,
and together they disappeared in the depths
of the forest, followeded by the Indians,
who protected their retreat.
44 Bv Heaven !’’ cried the British officer,
44 it is the arch-traitor himself—pursue ! A
thousand guineas to the man who secures
him dead or alive !”
The drum beat to arms—and the soldiers
advanced iri pursuit, when another volley
from the rifles of the Indians caused them
to stagger. 44 Forward, I say !” shouted
the officer in a voice of rage and disappoint
ment. “Down with them copper-colored
rascals !” The skirmish now became hot
and bloody, but the Indians suffered little
or no loss, being well accustomed to the
bush mode of warfare. In the meantime
the alarm spread throughout the camp,
troops were despatched in every direction
after the fugitives, but in vain—Chailes,
well acquainted with the country, conduct
ed Washington and himself through paths
unknown to any but a native, and in twenty
minutes from his rescue, they were both
safe within the American lines. For the
Indians, they easily eluded their enemies
among the intricacies of the forests, and re
turned to Washington to receive the re
ward he had promised them in the event of
their attempt of rescuing Willett proving
successlul.
We will not lengthen our narrative, wiili
a minute detail of the joy it imparted to El
len, her father and the relatives of Willett,
as well as to his companions in arms, and
of the admiration it won for Washington
for his generous and daring conduct. Suf
fice it lossy, that in all the battles, up ’till
the achievement of American Indepen
dence, Charles acted a brave and faithful
part ; then, having exchanged the sword
for the sickle, he returned to his native
home. Time and warfare had dor.e much
to change its appearance, but Ellen was
unaltered—her heart was pure and virtu
ous as ever, and the ring which he had en
trusted to the officer when on the brink of
eternity, (and which that officer hod faith
fully delivered to Ellen,) was placed hy
Charles on her finger on the day lie pressed
her to his manly bosom, his own loving and
true hearted wife.
THE SOUL IN PURGATORY,
Or, Love stronger than Death.
BY E. L. BULWER.
The angels strung their harps in Heaven,
and their music went up like a stream of
odours to the pavilions of tue Most High ;
but the harp of Serafim was sweeter than
that of his fellows, and the voice of the In
visible One (for llm angels themselves know
not the glories of Jehovah—only fur in the
depths of Heaven they see ofie Unsleeping
Eye watching for ever over the creation)
Was heard saying, “ Ask a gift for the love
that burns upon thy song, and it shall be
given thee.”
And Sernlim answered, 44 There are in
that place which men call Purgatory, which
is the escape from Hell, but the painful
porch of Heaven, many souls that adore
thee, and yet are punished justly for their
sins ; grant me the boon to visit them at
times, and solace their suffering hy the
hymns of the harp that is consecrated to
Thee!”
And the voice answered, 44 Thy prayer is
heard, O, gentlest of the angels ! and it
seems good to him who chastises but from
love. Go! Thou hast thy will.”
Then the angel sang the praises of God ;
and when the song was done, he rose from
his azure throne at the right band of Gi
briel, and spreading bis rainbow wings,
flew to that melancholy orb, which, nearest
to earth, echoes with the shriek of souls that
hy torture become pure. There the un
happy ones see from afar the bright courts
they are hereafter to obtain, and the shapes
of glotious beings who, fresh from the
mountains of immortality, walk amidst the
gardens of Paradise, and feel that their hap
piness hath no morrow ; and this thought
consoles amidst their torments, and makes
the true difference between Purgatory and
Hell.
Then the angel folded his wings, and
entering the crystal gates, sat down up
on a blasted rock, and struck his divine lyre,
and a peace fell over the wretched ; the de
mons ceased to torture, and the victims to
wail. As sleep to the mourners oftbe earth
was the song of the angel to the souls of the
purifying star; only one Voice amidst the
general stillness seemed not lulled by the
angel; it was the voice of a woman, and it
continued to cry out with a sharp cry—
“ Oh, Adenheim, Adeuheim, mourn not
for the lost I”
The angel struck chord after chord, till
its most skilful melodies were exhausted ;
but still the solitary voice cried out,
44 Oh, Adenheim, Adenheim, mourn not
for the lost!”
Then Serafim’s inteiest was aroused, and
approaching the spot whencethe voice came,
lie saw the spirit of a young and beautiful
girl chained to a rock, and the demons ly
ing idly by. And Seralim said to the de
mons, 44 Doth the song lull ye thus to rest ?”
And they answered, “ Her care for ano
ther is bitterer than all our tot merits ; there
fore we are idle.”
Then the angel approached the spirit,
and said, in a voice which stilled her cry—
for in what state do we outlive sympathy ?
44 Wherefote, O daughter nf earth, where
fore wailest thou with the same plaintive
wail ? and why doth the harp, that soothes
the most guilty of thy companions, fail in its
melody with thee ?”
44 Oh, radient stranger,” answered the
poor spirit, “ thou speakest to one who on
earth loved God's creature more than God ;
therefore is she justly sentenced. But I
knowthnt my poor Adenheim mourns cease
lessly for me. and the thought of his sorrow
is more intolerable to tne than all that the
demons can inflict.”
“ And how knnwest thou tiiat he laments
thee !” asked the angel.
“ Because I know with what agony I
should have mourned for him,” replied the
spit it simply.
The divine nature of the angel was touch
ed ; for love is the nature of the sons of
Heaven. 44 And how,” said he, 44 can I
minister to thy sorrows ?”
A transport seemed to agitate the spirit,
and she lifted up her mist-like and impalpa
ble arms, and ctied, “Give me, 0 give me
to return to earth, hut for one little hour,
that 1 may visit my Adenheim ; and that,
concealing from him my present sufferings,
1 may comfort him in his own.”
44 Alas!” said the angel, turning away
his eyes—for angels may not weep in the
sight of others —“ I could, indeed, grant
thee this boon, but thou knowest not the
penalty ; for the souls in purgatory may re
turn to earth, but heavy is the sentance that
awaits their return. In a word, for one
hour on earth, thou must add a thousand
years to the tortures of thy confinement
here !’’
Is that all!” cried the spirit; “ willing
ly, then, will I brave the doom. Oh! sure
ly they love not in heaven, or thou wouldst
know, O celestial visitant! that one hour of
consolation to the one we love is worth a
thousand ages of torture to ourselves ! Let
me comfort and convince my Adenheim—
no matter what becomes of me.’’
Then the angel looked on high, and he
saw in far-distant regions, which in that orb
none else could discern, the rays that part
ed from the all-guarding Eye, and heard the
voice of the Eternal One bidding him act as
his pity whispered. He looked on the spir
it, and her shadowy arms stretched plead
ingly towards Inm; he uttered the word
that looses the bars of the gate of Purgato
ry, atul lo! the spirit had entered the hu
man world.
It was night in the halls of the lord of
Adenheim, and he sate at the head of his
glittering board ; loud and long was the
laugh and the merry jest that echoed round,
and the laugh and In* jest of the lord of
j NUMBER 33,
WM. T. THOMPSON, EDITOR.
Adenheim were louderaud merrierthan all;
mill by his right aide safe a Iteautiful lady,
and, ever and nnnn, he tnrned fiom othef*
to whisper soft vows in her ear.
“ And, oh/’ said the bright dame of Fal
kenberg, “ thy worda what ladye can he*
lieve ? Didst thou not niter she mme nathn
to Ida, the fair daughter of Laden; and
now but three little months have closed up
on her grave ?”
“ By my halidom,” quoth the young lorcF
of Adenheim, “ thou dost thy beauty mar
vellous injustice. Ida ! nay, thou mockest
me ! I love the daughter of Laden ! Why,
how then should lbe worthy thee? A few
gay worda, a few passing smiles—beheld
all the love Adenheim ever boro to Ida.—
Was it my fault if the poor fool miscon
strued such courtesy ? Nay, dearest lady r
this heart is virgin to thee.”
“ And what!” said the lady of Falken
berg, as she suffered the arm of Adenheinrt
to encircle her slender waist, “didst thou
not grieve for her loss ?”
“ Why, verily, yes, for tho first week ‘
but in thy bright eyes I found ready conso
lation.”
At this moment the lord of Adt?nlieim’
thought he heard a deep sigh behind him ;
he turned, but saw nothing, save a slight
mist that gradually vanished in the distance.
Where Was the necessity for Ida to reveal
herself? *******
“ And thou didst not, then, do thine er
rand to thy lover I” said Seralim, as the
wronged Ida returned to Purgatory.
“Recommence the torture,” was poor
Ida’s answer.
“ And was it for this that thou hast added
a thousand years to thy doom ?”
*• Alas !” answered Ida, “after the single
hour I have endured on earth, there seems
to me but little terrible in a thousand years
of Purgatory!
Tempera we Statistics. —We gather from
the report of the Executive Committeof the
American Temperence Union, at its late
Anniversary in New York, the following,
items:
“ The reformed men have almost invari
ably adhered to their pledges, and become
worthy members of society. The societies
have been maintained with great spirit, and
their lectures have often shown an ability,
zeal and preseverance which have excited
universal adrniintion. The number of or
ganizations and pledged members now in
the United Sta'es it is impossible to estimate.
Few towns are without societies, and every
person wiihin the limits able to write hi#or
her name has signed the pledge.
“ The temperance reformation has been
instrumental in saving not less than halt a
million of our citizens from degradation and
ruin—has restored more than 100,OOOdrunk
ards—lies dried up the fountains of pauper
ism in a great degree—has made the poor
rich—the wretched happy, and the idle in
dustrious. It has greatly diminished crime,
as has been certified by eminent judges in
various portions of the land, os well as by
reports of State prisons in several of the
States. In Massachusetts of 148 discharged
prisoners who signed the pledge, but three
have been re-committed. It has given the
death blow to the traffic in ardent spirits.
“A strong feeling has been excited
against the license system —two thirds of
the inland lake trade is now carried on with
out ardent spirits—many of our vessels on
the ocean now sail with no spirituous liquor
except in the medicine chest—it has pene
trated the army and navy, in spite of the
curse of the service, the spirit ration—it has
added greatly to the wealth of the nation—
every department of honest industry, every
police office, every school, every military
company has felt its operation, and has sid
ed the cause of piety and true religion
throughout the land.
“The report alluded then to foreign lands;
to Ireland, where six millions have received
the pledge; to England, Scotland, and
Wales, where the progress of the cause is
highly cheering—though few of the nobility
and even clergy have taken part in it; to
Canada wlieie 10,000 have received iis
benefits. Bermuda, Nova Scotia and Hay
ti; to Sweeden where 50,000 peisona have
received the pledge; to Norway whose par
liament resolved that after ten years there
shall not he a distillery in the land ; to Af
rica, to Polynesia, and especially the Sand
wich lalands, whose king, with all his chief*,
and 1,500 of the population, have signed the
pledge, and where the king lately addressed
1,400 children, and exhorted them to sign
the pledge.”
Desperate Villain. —“ There is now
prowling about our city, one of the moat
daring and heariless scoundrels that ever
went “unvvhipt of justice.” He is sometimes
seen in the houses of our most wealthy citi
zens, and he ir.gratitates himself into* the
friendship and regard of the amiable and
lovely female s, and whenever he can he ea
snares them in his toils, and brings upon
them wretchedness and ruin. We often
see him in the company of our enterprising
young men, whom he often lures to Ihe
gambling table and to the house of infamy*
-—until “their feet take hold on hell.*’
We call upon all good citizens to be sp
on their watch for this violator of the rights
of man, this rubber of human happiness^—